


The beginning of the end

by Anant



Category: No Fandom, freeform - Fandom
Genre: A mess undoubtedly, Probably pretty amusing chapter titles at least, Swweeeeet Emoooootion, Venting/Poetry practice, Written at 1 am Probably - Freeform, poetry!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-12 14:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anant/pseuds/Anant
Summary: Just some poetry involving my going through life. The sadness the fear. The love and the joy. Everything we as humans all go through in our universal journey through this unfortunate series of bizarre coincidences. So enjoy!





	1. In our nature

I don’t scream my sorrows for the sake of it  
Become my pain for the fun in it  
There’s no joy in it  
Mostly.

I burn my sorrows into the husks of dryads,  
With the hope that someone (you) can learn from it  
If nothing else learn.

At dawn sing with the coyotes.  
Stop and greet the timid rabbits.  
Pause with the dove to watch sunrise  
And realize how fucking beautiful it is.

To have air rush through your lungs,  
And tousle your hair  
The music of life dances under your skin

For once don’t cut it out.

Lean into the window in the rain.  
Feel the coldness in your cheek.  
If you don’t have hot chocolate.  
Make some

Lets make some magic while we’re at it  
You have stardust in your blood and memories etched into your skin  
We are walking talking stories  
Each one more fantastic than any fiction

Because we made it.  
Scream it from the top of your lungs.

I’M STILL HERE  
WE’RE STILL HERE

Wake up and watch the sunrise  
Howl at the moon  
And know that you’re still here  
And I’m so fucking proud of you 

 

Through the shitty, fear ridden, terrible and just plain fucking cruel world you trekked  
It clung to you like devils rings  
Stuck to your soul like used up gum  
You pushed through  
Peeled off all the shit the world gave you  
And found something worth staying around for  
And that in itself is a miracle 

You are a miracle  
I can’t say your perfect  
No one is  
But you’re HERE  
And that my dear is a feat some don’t dare to accomplish 

Feel that relentless beat in your chest  
Hate it when it falls,  
Let it race when it shouldn’t.  
Because that’s just what we do.

We create with the rubble of destruction  
It’s in our nature  
To destroy  
To create  
We poison ourselves for just a few more beats, a few more breaths

We live, love, die, rise, fall, repeat  
We Live.  
We can’t stop it  
Because death in itself is part of life  
(That’s her nature)  
It’s not the end  
Just a transition  
Our souls return to their source, conscience forgotten  
Our forms decay,  
Feed new life  
Creation from destruction  
It’s in our nature


	2. We are but loose change lost in the couch cushions of the Universe

You heard me  
We are lost  
Eternally falling down sewer drains  
And bringing good luck to people with nothing left to lose

We are, but simply, the lowest form of currency.  
Tucked away in God's Back pocket  
Not great for much, not as purposeful as others

But we’re here.  
We may not serve the purpose we were put here for, if we had one to begin with  
But even pennies can be useful...Needed

Clutched in a child's hand for good luck  
Flipped into fountains and hearing the wished people don’t say out loud  
Hammered into the masterpiece of an artist who dreams of changing the world 

We may be but loose change, and the least important of it  
But we are beautiful in our own rite   
Not in the way that you can trade us for something better  
But in the way that means we are worth far more to those who bother to notice 

We may not have talent, I’m not poet   
Nor artist   
Not really much of anything (Friend, Sister, Daughter, Lost soul struggling to exist)

But we ARE  
And that’s enough  
Just to be

Existing is hard work (trust me I have a bit of experience with it)

You don’t need to be smart or beautiful or funny or talented to have worth  
We may not be beautiful in the way hundred dollar bills make your heart sing   
Or bring the pleasure of buying something new 

But we are incredible in our plainness  
In the plop of a coin hitting the water and a wish being granted   
In being found in parking lots and bringing joy to those who found us (even if for a short moment)

You are phenomenal  
In every sense of the word   
In every breath you take   
Because you don't need to save the world, saving yourself is enough   
Because you are worth saving


	3. Stranger than Facts, Realer than Fiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always open to constructive criticism and ways to improve my writing (Though plz be gentle I'm kinda an anxiety filled wreck as is). And if you have anything in specific you'd love me to write about I'm always happy to oblige!

They may not exist where we do  
Maybe we can’t run our fingers through their hair other than in dreams  
Can’t see their smiles without closed eyes.

But that does not mean theyre not real.

Perhaps the ones we “make up” are more real than the ones who tell us to “Wake up”  
Because we know them better than we know us.   
We are with them through every adventure,  
Every trial and triumph, loss and gain.  
We feel their pain as if it’s our own and mourn alongside them.

Is that not real?

We carry within us their absurd adventures   
Every time we think of their story we bring them back to life  
Blossoming in the fabric of our minds  
Weaving a tale so extravagant,  
None would dare call it fiction. 

Is that not magic?!

We hold the power to bring a thousand worlds to life  
And tell the stories of every mundane hero that lives there  
Their adventures, their sorrows.  
And in that moment is it not reality?  
Do we not make it true?

We the creators of such far-fetched worlds!  
Yet we believe so little in ourselves that we write them off as fiction.

I ask you! Are we nothing but works of fiction in the mind of something greater than us?  
And if we are,  
Does it make us any less real?  
Are our emotions our pain our love our fear our joy,  
Are.They. Real. 

And If they aren’t does it matter?!

When in the end the only measure of our realness.  
The only validation we will get from this existence.  
Is the realization that...  
Is that you think your real, and truly that is all you should ever need.

So long as you have faith in your own existence, then it shall continue to be so


End file.
